Reverse Ratios
by Zaedah
Summary: The virtue of patience flounders and dies in my hand along with civility and clemency.


_Just a little something/nothing to occupy a tiny morsel of your time. Many who have navigated the choppy seas of dating will understand the views expressed below.  
_

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**Reverse Ratios**

The virtue of patience is being ritually stabbed in the heart this morning. It flounders and dies in my hand along with civility and clemency. The meal becomes sand in my mouth as the roomful of hungry shipmates narrows to one. Bear in mind that, despite all present indications, I am not a violent person. But a woman stands at a distance, committing the sin of envy and I condemn her with every harsh exhale.

I just wanted toast. Is there no privacy?

In response to her eager blue eyes openly staring at us, I lean closer to my companion. My possessive claws dig in further and any sane girl would sense the blatant hint. But she's still trying, smoothing her uniform and primping her hair. I consider how pretty she'd look floating out of the airlock. And she'd have company.

Just yesterday, another woman performed similarly in an effort to distract him. That it always fails doesn't seem to decrease the incidents and I'm a batted eyelash away from forsaking public outings altogether. Shocking what a burst of temper can do to a reputation. He's becoming a target of unrequested affection by female crew members and my view of the universe has lately included a decidedly red tint. I'm so busy glaring the woman into submission that I almost miss his question.

"Have I given you cause for concern?" Spock's tone is cautious, as though unsure he wants an answer.

I wonder if he's learned to mindmeld without contact. Had I been of a paler persuasion, he could have fueled the ship on the glow of my blush. How can I explain that, in truth, I hadn't expected competition? It's a large vessel with a population ratio of one female to four males. It's practically a death match around here, men vying for space in a limited pool. Apparently, Spock has reversed the trend; at any given moment I've got four sets of eyes on my one man.

He's waiting for an answer in that solemn, yet curious way his race has perfected. My head shake will have to suffice because the nurse remains by the dispensers, posing as though his notice can be achieved by body over brains. Clearly these women have never researched Vulcans. They see the outer trimmings; a tall, strong body with striking features and an untouchable air. They don't see him, nor grasp how arduous the task of gaining a foothold in his life. But they'd better learn that I don't share.

If I think MINE any louder, it'll collapse the room.

I can't recall jealousy ever tasting this bitter, the poison on my tongue seeping into my tone whenever I must defend my claim on him. For his part, Spock has been as oblivious to their efforts as to the death glares I bestow on his admirers. Until now.

He's studying me with something tainting his dark eyes that takes a moment to recognize and the crust I've just swallowed tries to swim upstream. Disappointment. And then I understand.

"It's not you I doubt."

The eyebrow is raised, either unconvinced or unsatisfied. "I have chosen my mate," he reminds me. "I am not known for changing my mind."

The expression, as close to reassuring as an emotion purger can manage, dissolves my murderous intent. Truth is the sun in my sky and I hope the wattage of my smile blinds the observers. The biting tang of possessiveness recedes as Christine leaves the dining hall, dragging her fruitless attempts behind her. The only thing that keeps me from throwing my cooling meal after her is the knowledge that I don't have enough bread to beat back the rest of them. The petite Bajoran in engineering, the athletic brunette in security and the four-armed vixen hogging Kirk's covers. They're lucky that I practice mercy.

It becomes a mantra, one I'll need to recite daily until I'm no longer fearful of the attention he receives. He _chose_ me. He chose _me_. And if I'm enough for him, then his word must be enough for me. While I'd like to change his mind about a few things, my place isn't one of them.

Which doesn't mean I won't spend the afternoon marking my territory.


End file.
